


Silence in the Library

by ironyruinedmylife



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Harrison Wells is so tired its Unreal, Hartley doesn't speak, Multi, S1, Thwells is terrible but is actually quite fond of the team, hartley is always his fave tho, he's been alone for like eight years, hes still far too sassy for his own good, in that order, mute character, poor Hartley, pre-wells reveal, repost, the beast is back, this one is gonna be a mess guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-07 08:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19081048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironyruinedmylife/pseuds/ironyruinedmylife
Summary: 'Hartley hated this huge lonely house.Hartley hated it less than he had when he was fourteen, small and bruised and sobbing as his parents drove away.'Hartley Rathaway hasn't been seen since he was fourteen, Barry Allen needed a case to pretend to solve while he searched for his mothers killer. What exactly does a missing person do after eight years alone when The Flash comes knocking?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexiaBlackbriar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/gifts).



> ,,,,,,lord help me im back on my bullshit,,,
> 
> (I'm so sorry an irl friend saw this and i got so embarrassed i deleted it. luckily ya bitch had a copy of the whole thing squirrelled away in the recesses of her hard drive so like,,,,)
> 
> hopefully this time i'll finish it...
> 
> (also thank yall for reading pls leave kudos or a comment if u liked it if u like xx)

Hartley had been here for years.

 

He’d woken up to the sound of the birds singing outside his window, water rushing through pipes and the whisper of leaves. Almost dead silence in the house. Hartley rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, it was only six am, and he wanted to try and refigure his sleeping schedule, he wanted to know the optimum amount of REM he needed to operate properly. He watched the seconds tick by for half an hour, listening to the melody of the one plucky wren outside his window, who was determined to get through at least three sonatas before the world woke up. Hartley smiled faintly and sat up, pulling one from the pile of blankets to wrap around his shoulders as he opened the glass doors to the balcony that personally he didn’t think was necessary but his parents had just demanded.

 

He leant against the wall, letting the morning sunshine wash over him, warming his skin as the little bird paused in its song and hopped down to sing next to him. Hartley opened his eyes and smiled at the fuzzy image of the wren, who cocked it’s head as he held out two fingers, before fluttering up and continuing its song perched on his hand. Hartley smiled at his little friend, and eventually began to sing along to the song for a few minutes before the wren had decided it was too early, even for it, and fluttered away after one last note. Hartley watched it go and sighed.

 

He hadn’t spoken in years, he smiled. It was a peaceful life, and somehow in trying to punish him for years, his parents had given him the one thing he loved. They’d locked him up here, miles away from anyone, after two months of him solidly refusing to ‘stop the phase’. The 'phase' being him being into boys. His father had sighed, his mother had cried. Jerrie he hadn’t ever seen again, and it was something he hated everyday, but still, by placing him under house arrest here, by removing their son from the narrative of their lives, they had given him freedom.

 

He never saw anyone, hadn’t in years, but he had a huge library, a massive garden and no fucking parents to beat him up or demand he ignore the worst suffering in the city in favour of going to a ball with the friends they’d paid for. He didn’t have to talk, hear his stupid voice he hated so much, he had everything he needed to just quietly exist for the years it took for him to figure out exactly how he was going to legally crucify his family for this.

 

Hartley _hated_ this huge lonely house.

 

Hartley hated it _less_ than he had when he was fourteen, small and bruised and sobbing as his parents drove away.

 

He rose from the balcony and walked back inside, throwing his favourite green sweater on and a pair of jeans, tight enough to make his father squirm, should he ever visit, and made his way down stairs, grabbing his now battered headphones. The best thing about being alone for years with only books and music to judge you was that you completely lost any shame, so Hartley pressed play and bounced, span and danced his way through the floor, happily slid down the banister while checking over his playlist, now containing thousands upon thousands of songs, and crashed headlong into the kitchen counter throwing out his hands to catch himself as he slipped along the tile floor.

 

He laughed childishly and settled to making himself something to eat, humming the tune the wren had sung him while he grabbed some food, noticing that like always, the fridge had been restocked, as had the pantry, all without him ever seeing anyone, the same way it had been for years. Hartley sighed, grabbing a glass of water and some fruit, he made his way to the library. He sat in his window seat, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and wished that he didn’t feel _quite_ so sad all of the time, quickly he shook himself out of this, seeking distraction in the form of scientific journals and biographies, and music, always music. It didn’t work, but at least he could pretend that he wasn’t quite so lonely when he learned the details of someones life, it made him feel like he had friends, after all, that was what friends did, wasn’t it? They knew each other inside out, they helped each other, the people Hartley read about helped him, they distracted him.

 

It was close enough.

 

There had been an accident, a year before, something had gone wrong with a Particle Accelerator, which Dr Harrison Wells, someone whom Hartley admired through his neat and clear papers and theories on physics, Hartley of course had tracked the accelerators progress, had written equations which would have sped up the process and improved the device as a whole, and had only been _slightly_ bitter about not having the opportunity to help discover so much more about the world they lived in. He had also looked over the existing blueprints and equations, written by Harrison Wells and Cisco Ramon, mostly, another scientist Hartley looked up to, although he didn't really approve of his workwear in the photos he had seen, far too much pop culture and not enough _actual_ culture, still, his work was by all standards Really Fucking Impressive™, and Hartley would be lying if he said he wouldn't jump at an opportunity to meet him. However one line of formula had thrown him off, and no matter how hard Hartley looked at it, he couldn’t see the accelerator working without blowing up.

 

But he couldn't _do_ anything, there was no telephone in the house, he wasn't allowed to communicate with anyone, any and all messaging features, even fucking email had been taken off of his limited technology (he had of course, built more out of several broken toasters and a microwave, but nothing that could definitely get a message to Star Labs) and if he was honest with himself, he still feared his father more than almost anything, and should he disobey one of the rules, should he reveal himself to the outside world, he didn't know how his father would react.

 

At best he'd be beaten until he couldn't breathe, at worst Robert Rathaway might actually just shoot him. But he didn't have to sign his name, did he? Hartley had guiltily sent Dr Wells a message over his shittily highjacked email page, he'd jumped at any sound like footsteps or a door for weeks. He had no response, so he edited his program and tried. Again, and _again_ , and **_again_**.

 

Nothing.

 

 It came to the day of the Accelerators activation and Hartley sent message after message and received nothing until he anxiously huddled in front of a battered laptop with wires poking out everywhere, biting his lip and hoping to god he wasn't right.

 

He was right.

 

Hartley spent that night howling in pain as the wave of energy and dark matter changed his genetic coding, _shattered_ and _repaired_ and _edited_ and _improved_ his hearing until he could hear everything for miles, he could hear every creak of his bones, the individual strands of hair on his head moving, every muscle in his body tensing and his heart pumping frantically, the house groaning and creaking, the electricity in every wire or cable for miles. He spent the night twitching and hardly daring to breath, eyes wide open and desperately trying not to whimper. Hartley passed out eventually, a convulsing heap on the floor.

 

He woke up several weeks later in his bed, his hearing aids roughly jammed into his ears and sound cancelling headphones covering those. It didn't help much but at least he could have vague notions of thought. There was an IV drip in his arm and there was a note from Dr Magnus, the man who had originally gifted him his hearing, stating that a maid had found him, that he'd been kept sedated while they searched for a solution, that his parents were unwilling to pay for the treatment so they had provided him with any materials he could possibly need and told him to get on with it, a reminder not to contact anyone, the date and a personal message 'You're a clever kid, Hartley, you'll figure this out.'

 

Hartley had _screamed_.

 

He couldn't hear it above the din.

 

So he figured it out. He made hearing aids that balanced it out. Prototype after prototype. He shut all of the shutters on the windows, the light added to the headaches, he turned all of the mirrors around, his pale face and haunted eyes _disgusted_ him, he hid himself away in his bedroom with technology and books until one day he pressed the aids into his ears, biting down on a leather belt, and he could think again. He'd limited his hearing range by placing a technological damper on his natural (he laughed at that, natural) ability. He could hear the birds singing, his heartbeat, and a faint buzzing noise, the product of the aids, but his hearing was back to how it was  before. Extraordinary, but manageable.

 

He didn’t hurt.

 

Well, not _much_.

 

Still, there was now a programmed instinct to flinch away from noise, Hartley had always been a quiet boy, he had always preferred listening to speaking, sign language to words, but now the very core of his being registered noise as pain, and he couldn't bear to hear his own voice, any voice. He removed the volume from his TV set, put on the captions, and watched the near nuclear fallout of the experiment which could have ruined his already pretty damn crappy life.

 

He would be having Strong Words™ with Dr Wells, should he ever manage to escape this hellhole of a house.

 

Slowly Hartley could bear noise again, he stopped wearing his noise cancelling headphones, he started listening to music again, flinching at loud beats at first but slowly finding comfort in how they drowned out his emotions and thoughts, replacing them with the artists, _pain_ or _love_ or _sex_ or _anger_ or _sadness_.

 

But he couldn't speak.

 

He had come to loath the sound of his voice, which had always been a problem, he had been too quiet when he was deaf, too loud when he had been ‘fixed', too honest when with friends, too queer with family, too this, too that, and then his stupid pitiful whimpering and screaming had hurt him more after the accelerator.

 

He couldn’t stand it.

 

So he fell silent, and let the world make the noise for him.

 

He could laugh, sigh, hum, sing if he felt like it, but only ever the tune.

 

Words weren't allowed, words got him in trouble. Words were for paper.

 

He created notes instead, wrote sonata after concerto after symphony, until he had several rooms full to the brim of his music, and a flute which could play it all, made out of some piping and, after several months spent with an 'improved _'_   stove and eyebrows that came and went as the temperamental stove pleased, his mothers best silverware. Hartley had discovered that if he hummed specific notes and tunes, or if he was feeling particularly emotional that _things_ would happen. _Things_ being the world _bending to his will_. He had been humming while baking one day, when huge moth had come smacking headlong into the glass of the window, Hartley had screeched in surprise, he _hated_ moths, and the moth had disintegrated. Just fallen to dust.

 

_Uh oh._

 

Hartley had stared, then, tremors shivering down his body, had finished making the cookie batter, put it in the fridge and stared at the dust of the insect on his windowsill. He hadn't _meant_ to do that. _Had_ he done that? He had to have done. Hartley began humming again, willing the small thing to be undamaged and well and to _go away_ , almost immediately the dust began to have a shape and soon Hartley was staring at a small cuccoon. Okay. So he had the power over life and death apparently.

 

Via _humming_.

 

He experimented. Almost anything living would bend to his voice, and he didn't need to talk, he could convey the desire through his emotion and tune, it was _fascinating_. Hartley read up on hypnotism, and tried it out with the rats whom he could suddenly understand. They danced to his will and oh shit this meant that he could control and kill people. What if he couldn't leave? What if he hurt someone and they sent him back? No. _No_ , he would be careful, he would learn how to control it, he would learn how to use it and hide it and make people think that he was normal. The rats slowly became his allies in the huge lonely house, they were clean, they poked him when he needed to stop working and sleep and they hissed at him when he needed to eat. It was like having friends, almost. Hartley never, ever spoke now. But he wasn't totally alone, he had his music, he had his rats.

 

Which lead him to where he was now, sitting at his window seat, slowly eating apple slices and grapes, flipping through the biography of Alexander Hamilton and happily enjoying the still silence of the library.

 

Then something red flashed across his garden.

 

* * *

 

Barry Allen had always been one for a mystery, and goddamn if Hartley Rathaway’s essential disappearance wasn’t one. The kid had hit fourteen, and then suddenly he stopped appearing in the press, there was no new media around him, except wondering where the hell he’d gone, his parents said they’d sent him off to boarding school but really everyone wondered whether they’d just taken him to some dark alley and offed the poor kid. It was no secret that Hartley had never been in his parents favour, even when he was a little boy, most every photograph of him with his parents showed some form of bruising and a terrified expression.

 

Personally Barry thought that it was unlikely they’d killed him, more likely to have just given him some money and quietly dropped him off in Keystone somewhere. They’d never liked him, and had been scathing about him in interview until the day he vanished. Barry was also never one to do things by halves, and Joe had told him to let his mothers case gather dust and while that was absolutely never going to happen (Don’t tell Joe, he’d kill him) he needed a good cover story for being in the archives. So he picked the case about the kid with the impossibly rich parents that everyone was too scared to charge.

 

Then he’d gotten _interested_.

 

And now he was here, staring at the huge house in the photos, and wondering if he was going crazy. He had business to attend to, someone was probably getting robbed, but Caitlin was still happily tapping away at her phone and Cisco was playing himself at Go Fish, nothing had come up and...

 

"Mr Allen?" Dr Wells asked, coming up behind him. "What has you so fascinated?"

 

Barry frowned at the photo, the newest from one of the others who was just as worried and bemused by the case, only this one had a camera and a limited moral compass. Barry sat down next to the doctor and passed him the tablet, Dr Wells frowned at it, then at him "And I'm supposed to be seeing, what exactly?"

 

"Does it look like there's someone in the window to you?" Barry asked. Dr Wells blinked at him

 

"And why are you so interested?"

 

"Okay, so story time, when I was a young cop,' Dr Wells mumbled something about him still being young, Barry glared at him "A _younger_ cop, Joe didn't like that I was so into finding out who actually killed my mom, so I picked up a long dead case that no one wanted, only then I got interested."

 

"And this case would be?"

 

"So you know the Rathaways?" He asked. Dr Wells nodded cautiously

 

"Their son was the brightest by far, he came to one of my lectures when he was twelve." He replied. Barry nodded enthusiastically

 

"I'm trying to figure out where the hell he went. And it turns out that there's this house on the outskirts of Central, owned by the Rathaways, so, can you see anyone in the window?" Barry explained. Dr Wells blinked at him, and wordlessly shoved the tablet at Cisco, who seemed to understand, plugging it in and displaying the image ten times bigger on the screen.

 

"Can you enhance it?" Barry asked. Cisco gave him A Look™

 

"I can't change the number of pixels, Barry, I can't  _enhance_ it. That's just what bad writers do on crime shows when they run out of ideas." He said snidely, before tapping away at the screen "What I can do is use an algorithm to predict what's there." With that the quality of the image increased rapidly several times over, until it seemed to be perfectly clear shot. Barry frowned

 

"Zoom in, _there!_ Do you see it?" He pointed. Caitlin frowned, Cisco blinked, Dr Wells looked mad. In the window, clearly either in a chair or on the window ledge itself was a boy, around twenty one, curled up in blankets reading a huge book, glasses buried in a head of messy hair. Unmistakably it was Hartley Rathaway, last seen when he was fourteen.

 

"Well he's pretty, at least." Cisco commented "Why are we looking at this guy?"

 

"Do you mean to tell me, Mr Allen, that the Rathaways have kept one of the most promising minds of this _century_ locked up there?" Dr Wells asked coolly, Cisco raised his eyebrows

 

"This is the Rathaway kid? Like the one who went missing? Dude are we like, _rescuing_ him?" He grinned widely "I feel like I'm in an Agatha Cristie book!"

 

"I could make a solid case for abuse and neglect," Barry pointed out "We'd need to meet him and have a reason for rescuing him."

 

"Nothing says reasonable like a superhero." Caitlin said with wry amusement. Dr Wells actually grinned then

 

"The Flash does have such a talent for saving damsels in distress, no one could question it, because _none_ of it makes sense. It's perfect." He added. Barry raised his eyebrows

 

"You want me to rescue the kid as The Flash just 'cause...the Flash?" He asked. Dr Wells nodded

 

"You can't ask why the superhero saved someone." He pointed out. Cisco grinned 

 

 “This is so many different kinds of awesome.”


	2. When The Flash Comes To Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is a Good Person™, Hartley is terrified and Cisco is mildly inappropriate.

Barry ran over to the house quickly, and only got lost once, which he was pretty damn impressed by considering his track record. _Ha_. Track record. He frowned, shaking his head slightly, he really needed to get something done about his attention span. Barry ran around the garden, eyes and subsequently camera catching on the boy in the same window as the photo, who was reading another huge book, eating fruit and wrapped up in a green blanket. “I was right, the Rathaway kid grew up _hot_." Cisco snickered into Barry's earpiece. Barry laughed as he heard Dr Wells sigh deeply 

 

"Think about the degree of propriety required in our situation, Cisco, just the once, for me?" He begged. Barry laughed at that, as did Caitlin 

 

"Fine, just sayin' though." Cisco grouched. Barry grinned

 

"I'm gonna go in now, map it out, I wanna be sure I'm right." He suggested. 

 

"A sound decision, Mr Allen." Dr Wells agreed. Barry frowned

 

"Its just _Barry_ , just Barry." He grumbled as he phased through the wall. He ran around the building, stopping in every few rooms. It was huge, the house, _far_ too big for one person. And yet there was no evidence of life other than the kid in the window, there was one bedroom, containing a double bed with a mound of blankets and pillows tangled up on it, a balcony which looked hardly used, but stacks and stacks of papers, mostly music and physics, written by hand and strewn everywhere. Barry saw piles of books, biographies and fairy tales and hypotheses and any kind imaginable, all highlighted and notated, which made Dr Wells huff in appreciation 

 

"That's exactly what I do when I read." He mumbled. Barry snickered and considered making a very inappropriate joke, then remembered how Dr Wells had reacted to Cisco's (mostly) innocent comment, and thought better of it. Then his eyes caught on a very familiar book 

 

"Hey look, he has your book," he pointed out. Dr Wells laughed then, before Barry's eyes caught on the post it note on the cover 

 

_No proof reading, email not checking, error making prick. _

 

"So maybe he's not your _biggest_ fan." He improvised, hearing Dr Wells deep sigh in the earpiece. "Wait, was he effected by it?"

 

"If he's a meta then..." Dr Wells trailed off ominously and Barry took a moment to bemoan the man's flair for the dramatic. He then sped off to finish his tour of the house, seeing empty room after empty room, full only of music, which he had a quick rifle through "He's a genius," Dr Wells mumbled 

 

"You can sight read?" Barry heard Cisco ask. 

 

"I get bored- Barry, _there!"_ Barry grinned 

 

"There we go, finally. Houston, we have a Barry." He commented. Dr Wells sighed 

 

"No, look on the left corner." He suggested. The music was signed. 

 

_Hartley Rathaway, 2007._

 

The year he disappeared. 

 

" _Fuck_ yes!" Barry crowed as quietly as possible, hearing a surprisingly affirmative response from his team

 

"He's been here since he was fourteen?" Cisco asked quietly after the excitement of the reveal wore off. Now in the kitchen, Barry paused

 

"No one else stays here. You don't think..." 

 

Dr Wells might be rubbing off on him. Just a little bit. 

 

"Barry we'll ask him the details. It's his story to tell." Caitlin suggested. Barry nodded, glancing around the room. Books everywhere, which seemed to be a recurring theme, and cookies, _lots_ of cookies. There were two cakes in the fridge as well.

 

"I think he likes baking." Barry added unnecessarily. Dr Wells sighed

 

"You don't say." Barry turned and- oh. Hello.

 

* * *

 

Hartley had seen and heard the man running around his house. The red streak, the Flash, which privately Hartley thought sounded kind of illegal, was in his home. He'd been seen, he'd been _found_.

 

This wasn't how it was supposed to be, Hartley needed to get out quietly and quickly and _without any superheroes_ who probably wanted to arrest him. _Fuck_. He couldn’t speak, if he was arrested he was definitely going to jail, his parents would come up with something, or the police wouldn't believe him, or- he took a breath. He couldn't survive in jail, he knew what happened in Iron Heights and he knew he would last about two days. Max. 

 

Why was the Flash here, had his parents sent him? Had they told him he was trespassing? Or did the Flash think he had run away? Was he going to be dragged back to his family? He couldn't go back, he _wouldn't_. Hartley slowly got up and silently padded over to the door, watching the Flash zip around his house, chatting to a team on the other end, one that sounded kind of like the videos of the Star Labs team, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that the Flash was in his home, and was probably going to try and hurt him. Hartley was shaking, panic fogging his mind, and he knew that any attempts to use his ability would be warped and strangled and Not Useful. So he grabbed the closest thing to him and silently followed the voices.

 

* * *

 

Barry stared. The boy stared back. He was shaking like a leaf, pale and oh shit he was so small, and Barry suddenly realised that he'd broken into this kids house, this kid who might not have seen a human in _seven years_ and he might be a meta and he's so _scared_ \- was that a ukelele? Barry raised a hand to wave and the kid whimpered and suddenly the ukelele was being aimed at his head-

 

Everything went black. 

 

Dr Wells blinked, the camera was still on the boy, knocked out of place by the musical instrument Rathaway was brandishing. Cisco was frantically tapping at his tablet “Bear? Barry- dude, what just happened?" He asked frantically. Dr Wells sighed

 

"I think we may have slightly misjudged the solidity of our plan." He commented. All eyes turned to Rathaway, and they all winced as they suddenly realised they'd broken into the house of a boy who hadn't come into contact with people other than through his laptop for years. Whoops. Said boy was shaking violently, he dropped the now very broken ukelele and stepped backwards, keening low in his throat, then suddenly there was a rat on the counter next to him, squeaking. Rathaway barely blinked and made a confused noise at the small rodent, before he frowned at the camera, eyes going wide before quickly turning the camera around, so all they could see was the wall.

 

“Uh oh.” Dr Wells murmured

 

* * *

 

Barry woke up to shouting in his earpiece, and tiny little sobs from the corner. He blinked, he was tied to a chair, which he had expected, with belts, which was new. Still, he was in one piece and didn't even have a headache, which frankly did wonders for his mood, and yet all he could really register was- 

 

"I got knocked out by a _ukelele_." He mumbled blankly. His team all sighed in relief via earpiece, which thankfully had not broken, he looked around, he was in one of the many mostly abandoned rooms, there was a dusty TV in one corner, and there was a huge window almost taking up the whole of the left side wall, showing a huge garden, which was well maintained for one kid doing it all, but then there was the kid in question, who was hiding in a corner, trying and mostly succeeding in stopping his trembling, holding the splintered remains of the ukelele in front of him. Barry offered a sheepish grin

 

"Hey," he tried. The kid barely blinked, tightening his grip on the instrument. "You've got quite the swing, dude." Rathaway seemed confused by that, shaking his head

 

"Barry you need to get out of there, it's not safe." Caitlin suggested. Rathaway sent a disapproving look at Barry's ear for half a second before shrinking back into his corner 

 

"Hey, can you...can you hear them?" Barry asked slowly. Rathaway's eyes widened comically in fear as he violently shook his head, Barry laughed a little bit "You kind of just answered my question."

 

Which he had meant in a jokey, banter kind of way, and yet Rathaway made a terrified sound, and his shaking worsened “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, I'm...I'm Harry, hi." He tried, hearing an outraged scoff and several sniggers from his team. Unsurprisingly Rathaway didn't believe that, raising one eyebrow and glancing pointedly at his ear. "Okay so I might be lying. I'm actually called Barry, what's your name?" 

 

Rathaway glanced around helplessly, jaw set, before making some funny gestures with his hands, which Barry faintly recognised as ASL, he frowned "Could you do that again, slowly please?" Rathaway repeated the movements, precisely and clearly. It took Barry a few go's before he figured it out "Hartley, you're Hartley Rathaway, right?" 

 

By this point Hartley seemed resigned to whatever he thought Barry wanted, so he just nodded tiredly, then pointed at the emblem on Barry’s chest and mimed undoing ropes, and Barry suddenly realised that Hartley knew perfectly well that Barry was only staying put for curtesy's sake, and oh he was holding out his wrists like- 

 

"I'm not here to arrest you." Barry murmured. He heard Cisco grumble about his camera and how he probably should arrest him. Barry sighed and phased through the belt, rubbing his arms as he stood, Hartley flinched but kept his wrists in front of him defensively. Barry walked closer and noticed that he was twitching slightly and mouthing something, Dr Wells silently took the cue

 

"Please go, leave me alone, don't, go, leave me be please, please don't hurt me, just leave me alone. I won't tell, just go, don't tell him, leave me." He murmured solemnly. Barry took Hartley's hands in his own 

 

"I'm not going to tell him, I'm gonna go and get someone nice, you'll like her. She knows sign too, she can help." He stated gently, even as Hartley flinched away and started shaking his head. Barry silently wondered who the hell did this to a kid "How long have you been alone?" He asked himself, not expecting an answer. Hartley pulled away from him, backing into the wall and signing shakily 

 

“He says not to bring anyone, he'll be good, to please just leave him alone again." Dr Wells supplied, Hartley nodded at this even as Barry frowned 

 

"You'll love her, don't worry, she's real sweet, a-and she'll bake with you. You like baking don't you? Yeah, you guys can make cupcakes or something. I'm gonna go now, I'll bring my friend round in a few hours. We're not arresting you, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay." With that Barry found himself overwhelmed and left, running all the way back to Star Labs, the lingering image of Hartley shaking, petrified in his grip haunting him.

 


	3. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Wells is very angry, irony is a beautiful thing, Hartley remains scared but makes Progress when he meets Iris West.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about Hartley's narrative style in contrast to Barry's/others: Hartley refers to people as titles, eg The Flash, as opposed to Barry and Iris West instead of Iris until he is comfortable with them enough to humanise them more by using their given name. This is because in this stories canon when he was a child Hartley and his sister Jerrie (who will pop up in the future) were trained to be polite to a fault, so you can bet their dad was either 'Father' or 'Sir' and 'M'am' and 'Mother' for mum, due to Hartley being alone, his social skills havent had the chance to develop so he defaults to what he knows, he will also seem childish at times, both because of this and because my headcanon is that when he is scared or anxious or depressed, his mind cant take the strain of thinking as much as he does and reverts to instinct, and since this is a Very Bad Situation© for poor Hart, he is in a perpetual state of anxiety, thus mild childishness. Hope this helps explain the way I write him!

Dr Wells was furious, understandably, and all four of them had felt the same when once Barry had returned from Hartley’s house, Dr Wells had immediately started ranting, angrily gesturing as he spoke “Do they have _any_ idea, any _vague notion_ of how _damaging_ that kind of isolation is? One would think that parents capable of producing a child with the level of intelligence Hartley has would spare a brain cell, _should they have any_ , to ponder _exactly_ what that kind of negligence would do to a kid that smart?” 

 

Barry sat with his fists clenched, silently agreeing with every word his mentor spat “We’ll have to help him.” Dr Wells stated angrily. Caitlin raised an eyebrow

 

“There’s no ‘have to’ of it, we are _going_ to help him. I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t.” She replied, just a touch colder than ice. Cisco nodded

 

“We can’t leave him there. We can’t.” 

 

“We’re not going to. I’m going to find Iris.” Barry added, before smiling faintly as his team rallied around a kid none of them had ever met, wondering how he managed to find friends as good as these.

 

* * *

 

Hartley sat in a dazed stupor for a good hour, staring blankly at the wall, fingers twitching, itching for something to do, make, play, build, _anything_ , but all he could do was run over the last two hours in his mind. The Flash had found him, had broken into his house, had rifled through his things, invaded the place where he had lived, alone, for seven years. The Flash was the first human he’d seen in that long.

 

And he had been _kind?_

 

He had been _gentle?_

 

There were no harsh words or invading questions, he hadn’t been hurt. In fact he hadn’t even made him speak. But he had broken into his home, he had been seen, he had said he was going to come back with someone else. Another person. They would try and make him speak, the Flash could definitely be lying, tricking him into thinking he was safe.

 

_Ha_ , safe.

 

He hadn’t been safe since his parents realised he was deaf.

 

Kind words only come from people with an agenda.

 

And The Flash would either realise how pointless coming back for someone like him was, and leave him alone again, or he would come back and pretend for a while that he was kind, and then arrest/hurt him. Neither of those options sounded exactly nice, but the first one was the one Hartley wanted more than anything, the Flash had to know how Hartley was different, how he was _wrong_ , and oh _fuck_ what if he was going to try and take his ability? It was nearly all of the power he had, his only defence. What if the Flash decided to cut him open like Father had ordered Dr Magnus to, to see how he worked, what made him tick.

 

What if they tried to _fix_ him?

 

Hartley had had a childhood pass by to the sound of whimpering and the sight of a doctors surgery. He wouldn’t do that ever again. So when the Flash came back, if he did, and Hartley was hoping and praying to every God he knew of that he wouldn’t, that he would just let Hartley be and let him continue his Plan in peace, but if he came back, Hartley would be ready. He’d hide his flute, which could lull someone into sleep, or into whatever Hartley wanted, and he would relearn some of his songs, have them ready to sing through, ready to use. 

 

Ready for Hartley to manipulate. 

 

It would be the first and hopefully only time he would reveal his ability. 

 

Hartley itched for something to do. So he pulled himself up and gathered his things, hiding his various flutes around every single room he could, he then wandered into the kitchen and grimaced, everything was slightly off balance.

 

Now that was just _unacceptable_.

 

He spent a good hour righting everything the Flash had (probably) accidentally moved, then he heard the lightning. 

 

Fuck.

 

In his need to tidy up, of all things, Hartley hadn’t prepared anything, thats what you get for thinking a speedster would give you a few hours peace, he thought defeatedly. Still, he managed to pick up the song he’d been working on from the kitchen counter and memorise it. At least his brain still worked. The lightning sound grew closer to his house, so Hartley panicked, and he hid. He wasn’t proud of it but it was probably the best he could do, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he listened to the noise come closer and closer until he could feel the crackle stinging his eardrums.

 

“Hey buddy.” Hartley clenched his jaw in an attempt not to accidentally blow the hero up. It worked, thankfully. But the Flash was there, right in front of him and oh god he didn’t _want_ this, he didn’t _know_ the people calculation, he didn’t know how to deal with this. Then he peaked through his eyelashes and saw the Flash in normal clothes, face vibrating slightly to mask his appearance. Behind him was a woman Hartley vaguely recognised-

 

Iris West.

 

_Journalist_.

 

No, no, _no, **no-**_ This couldn’t be happening, The Flash was a hero, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t turn him into a headline, he couldn’t, Hartley wouldn’t let him. But what if Iris West had already been filled in, he couldn’t hurt them, he’d promised himself never to do that, but he couldn’t just keep them here what was he going to do? He couldn’t spend anymore time under the Press’ scrutiny, being the 'Golden Boy Of Central City' had been hard enough, he wasn’t certain if he could take it now and-

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s alright, this is my friend, Iris.” The Flash tried to comfort, only Hartley had already retreated into his mind, away from this nonsense, this noise and someone was right in front of him

 

“Hey, Hartley.” She had a lovely voice for a paid vulture. Hartley blinked at Iris West, who was by all standards too beautiful for her own good, who had a hand hovering over his arm which he suddenly noticed was flung over his face. Dammit. Another slip like that and they’d figure out his fathers kind of ‘affection’. Freud would be so proud. “I’m gonna touch you, is that okay?” She asked.

 

Huh.

 

Hartley had never been asked his permission for anything. Everyone grabbed and talked at and examined and operated on and yelled at and questioned and prodded and invaded his life without once asking if it was ‘okay’ with him. So maybe Iris West was _different_. Maybe she was a Good Person-No. Can’t afford to think like that. Until you know otherwise, everyone is a threat. Hartley shook his head and lowered his arm slightly. Iris nodded

 

“Okay, can you talk or are you a selective mute?” Hartley blinked at her, raising an eyebrow “Are you physically able to talk?”

 

A nod. Yes, of course he could talk. 

 

“So you just don’t want to?”

 

No, well, yes. But no. He wanted to be able to be Normal™ and communicate easily but he couldn’t risk it so-

 

“Hey, its okay. So physically you can but there is a reason big enough that you feel you can’t?” Iris West summarised. Hartley blinked.

 

A nod. Yes. That was basically it. But with more pain and dubious abilities. 

 

“Okay then, do you wanna go somewhere you’d be more comfortable? The Flash and I aren’t here to hurt you.” 

 

Iris West was proving herself to either be a Good Person™ or A Very Clever Threat™. 

 

Hartley considered her question, before shaking his head, deciding that the less they could figure out about him from his home the better. He did ease himself into a more comfortable position however, as Iris West and The Flash lowered themselves to sit cross legged opposite him. He blinked at them, tilting his head as he picked up the slightly distorted buzz of the comm link, far fainter with the overpowering vibrations of the Flash’s face. 

 

Hartley frowned at The Flash, and Iris West took the initiative “I don’t think he’s really a threat, and the face vibration looks like its bugging him, so…” She trailed off and suddenly The Flash was a normal human. Like he thought Hartley was. Hartley offered him a small smile and if he’d been less scared out of his mind he would have appreciated the man's good looks more. 

 

Unfortunately he was utterly terrified so ogling could wait. He also offered a short nod in the direction of the earpiece the Flash was wearing. 

 

Oh, right, he could see the face of the Flash, valuable information. Collect. Glance up, observe- Barry. That was what he'd called himself before. That meant he was Barry Allen. Hartley had only just remembered his near obsessive tracking of the Accelerator, remembered reading some impressive papers on it by one B. Allen, and then remembered seeing the name Barry Allen popping up under every mention of Star Labs months after the accident, hexagonal algorithms and- He’d been right. Barry Allen was The Flash. _Huh_. 

 

“See? He looks much happier now.” Iris West commented. Hartley thought it best not to go through the long process of nonverbally expressing that he was pleased because he had been correct in his deduction of the Flash’s identity. 

 

“Hartley, I’m Barry, remember? I’m not going to hurt you or do anything you don’t want me to.” 

 

Hartley laughed at that, mentally running over the various times someone had said that to him and then proceeded to directly contradict themselves. Barry didn’t seem all that pleased with his response. Hartley supposed as a Good Person™, Barry wouldn’t have much experience with that kind of hypocrisy. “Would you be okay with meeting my team?” 

 

No. 

 

No, more people, more people meant more risk and-

 

“It’s okay if you don’t. But I know you can hear them over the comms, well, they aren’t talking right now so you won’t hear them, but- anyway, I’d like to introduce them, since they’ll see everything I do.” Hartley frowned, then figured since there was nothing he could do about their digital presence, he could at least get some intel on them. He nodded cautiously, and Barry pulled a photo out of his jacket pocket and-

 

That was the STAR labs team. So that was why The Flash always went back there. He'd presumed that someone was using the building, abandoned as it should've been. 

 

“He knows them.” Iris West stated. Hartley nodded, tapped the photo and gestured at his ears “The accelerator caused your hearing problems?” 

 

His hearing problem wasn’t the only thing it caused but Hartley couldn’t afford to reveal that just yet so he nodded, frowning at the photo. 

 

“They didn’t know, Hartley.” Barry stated sadly.

 

But Hartley had.

 

Still, no use in thinking of that, not until he could work out if one of them had deliberately ignored all warnings, including his own. Until then, he would ignore the vicious little voice screaming about ‘hell to pay’ and focus on the present. “I know you already know their names but I still wanna introduce you,” Barry mumbled awkwardly. Hartley shrugged 

 

“This is Dr Harrison Wells,” Barry pointed at the now disabled man. Hartley blinked as he heard the man pipe up from the comm unit

 

“Hello, Hartley.” Hartley nodded at the photo, and smiled a little. Barry grinned at him 

 

“This is Cisco Ramon, say hi Cisco.” And another voice

 

“Hi there,” He sounded like a fun person to be around and a terrible person to try and do hard work with. Hartley smiled and nodded again

 

“That's me and this is Dr Caitlin Snow,”

 

“Hey, Hartley. Nice to meet you.” Hartley repeated the smile-nod process and then waved awkwardly, not quite sure if Barry was still wearing the camera somewhere. Apparently he was because the voice belonging to Cisco quickly explained that they all waved back. Barry took over from there

 

“We’d really like to help you out, Hartley. Cause we’re pretty sure you don’t wanna be alone here after like ten years here, and we definitely don’t wanna return you to your family.” 

 

Hartley’s eyes widened and he shook his head violently, comforted only when Barry nodded decisively in response “Yeah, we’re _not_ doing that. We’d also really like to see if we can work out what the deal is with your hearing and whether you’re a meta or your aids went wrong.”

 

Oh yeah, he forgot. The entire damn world had known about his ‘deficiency’. Suddenly his dislike of journalists and mistrust of Iris West sparked up again.

 

“Sore topic? Anyway, we’d love you to come round to STAR labs sometime, you don’t have to stay there unless you want to, or you could come live with me or Iris, or stay here and I could run you there to avoid press.”

 

It didn’t sound _horrific_. Of course they could still be lying, but why go to all of this risk? Unless they wanted to experiment on him and- “We won’t do anything without your consent.” Iris West emphasised. Hartley frowned.

 

He could go. He didn’t _have_ to stay. If he didn’t like it he’d come back home, work on his plan, _he didn’t have to do it_. And maybe he could experiment with his ability without hurting anyone, maybe they could figure out what it was. They’d all sounded nice enough, maybe they wouldn’t hurt him. He could always say no. And they wouldn’t tell his family and Iris West wouldn’t make him a headline. _He didn’t have to._

 

Hartley nodded. Okay. 

 

Barry beamed at him and vaguely Hartley registered Harrison Wells telling Cisco off after a mildly inappropriate comment about Hartley and an air punch that had clearly broken something. Iris West smiled at him

 

“Thank you, Hartley.” She murmured. Hartley smiled back. 

 

Maybe he would even make some friends.

 

Hmm, a thought for another day perhaps.


	4. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley meets the Team, Dr Wells continues to be shady and Cisco is a literal puppy. Also, Joe West needs to find his chill.

Barry and Iris, who after telling Barry off for a good twenty minutes after he nearly tripped over one of Hartley’s now abandoned flutes had graduated to use of her forename, had stayed with him for another few hours, tirelessly working at some form of bond between them and Hartley, who knew perfectly well that he was being manipulated, but still could not seem to stop the forming friendship (Hmm, he’d never had a real one of those before. He’d have to look them up,) blossoming somewhere in between Iris raving about the cake he’d awkwardly offered her and Barry staring after Hartley had somehow communicated that his flute was made from forks, knives and some piping. 

 

He’d heard an awed gasp from Cisco Ramon, and a sharp comment from Dr Harrison Wells. He’d had to try really quite hard not to laugh. 

 

They had left after a while, with a promise to come back the next day, but only after they had triple checked that it was okay with Hartley, who was so shocked at being asked with such sincerity that he forgot how to sign for a moment. Once Hartley was alone again he had a chance to breathe, he’d always liked being alone, with no one to tell him how he wasn’t enough, or point out his flaws like he didn’t already know they were there, but somehow Barry and Iris had breached his carefully constructed walls, Hartley supposed it was inevitable after having no opportunity to test them as the prototypes they had always been.

 

Still, he didn’t quite know how to react to the empty feeling he’d been able to ignore before today. The gaping cavity where he supposed friends and family and _warmth_ ought to be seemed much darker, colder and emptier than he recalled it being. Suddenly he found himself both terrified of and desperate for Barry and Iris’ presence. They made him _feel_. Feel things he hadn’t ever let himself feel since he was fourteen, they must’ve broken him, taken his walls and shattered him, leaving him exposed, vulnerable.

 

_Weak_.

 

“Hartley cringed and set his jaw. No, he wouldn’t be weak, his father was _wrong_. Wrong about him, wrong about Jerrie, who he swore he was going to see again someday, wrong about _everything_. He _wasn’t_ weak. He _wasn’t._ Hartley tried not to think for a grand total of two seconds before his racing mind barrel rolled down another mental path, and Hartley distracted himself quite soundly with the thought of being able to examine the particle accelerator, and the people who built it. 

 

That they in turn would examine him was ridiculous, and not to be thought about. 

 

Hartley didn’t sleep much that night. 

 

The next day he woke up and wondered why exactly he’d let his life change so much in 24 hours. Still, he had to get up, Barry had never specified a time so he’d best just be prepared as soon as possible, so he grabbed a sweater and jeans, threw them on as fast as possible, chirped a small hello to his wren friend, who wasn’t best pleased that Hartley hadn’t joined in on the morning opera and flung himself down the stairs. He grabbed breakfast and hopped up onto the kitchen counter. Half an hour passed. 

 

Hartley frowned at the clock.

 

Another half hour passed.

 

Hartley’s leg was bouncing anxiously and his hands were conducting an invisible orchestra as he watched the seconds tick by. He then angrily threw down the pencil he’d been fiddling with and hopped off the counter, stomping to his library, having decided that Barry wasn’t coming, he didn’t know why the thought of the hero giving up on him hurt so much but he didn’t really want to think about it considering how his emotional stability had been rocked. 

 

He was tightly bundled up in a blanket and absorbed in the world of Artemis Fowl, a teenage genius hell bent on blackmailing the fae (Hartley had never fallen in love with a character faster), when suddenly he heard lighting and a second later Barry was in front of him, smiling all wide and suddenly Hartley felt rather foolish for not believing he’d come. 

 

“Good morning, Hartley!” Barry greeted. Hartley smiled as best he could as he heard the various grumbles of the team who were present via earpiece. Barry smiled at him and crouched down next to him “What’re you reading?” 

 

Hartley brightened up, he liked it when people read. It meant they could talk to him about something other than The Family Name™ or Being Rich™, and Barry seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t beat him up for reading a kids book, so tentatively he presented the cover of the book and Barry gasped delightedly “Artemis Fowl? I love that series, he’s such a dick but the planning, oh my days the _planning_. And Hollie Short, oh my _god._ ”

 

Slowly a huge grin stretched over Hartley’s face as Barry unapologetically rambled about the book, smiling encouragingly all the while. He didn’t even notice when Barry sat next to him on the window seat and began acting out his favourite scene. It was only when Dr Harrison Wells cleared his throat for the fifth time that Hartley realised he was supposed to be going somewhere. So he tugged on Barry’s sleeve and glanced pointedly at the earpiece, Dr Harrison Wells then pointed out that Barry was only supposed to be there to pick Hartley up. 

 

“He’s a real killjoy,” Barry mumbled conspiratorially to Hartley, who giggled as Dr Harrison Wells grumbled. “So get us there I’m gonna need to pick you up, is that okay?”

 

Hmm. 

 

Hartley hadn’t been touched by another person in a very long time. But Barry was gentle, right? Barry wouldn’t hurt him. And eventually when he legally slaughtered his parents for this he would have to be touched so…

 

He nodded. Okay.

 

Barry carefully scooped him up and grumbled something about how he weighed less than he should, which Hartley promptly ignored, his Father had always said that he was far too fat and he doubted that anything had changed. The hero then told him to hold on tight, so Hartley tucked his head into the crook of Barry’s neck, squeezed his eyes shut and flung his arms around Barry’s neck. There was the sensation of the wind almost melting off his face and then all was still. He peeked up and stared at the interior of Star Labs. 

 

Immediately he clambered down from the now rather amused hero, who watched his wide eyed awe with a smile as Hartley blinked at his surroundings then turned and stared at Barry, proceeding to poke his legs with a curious expression, frowning intently at them. Barry grinned as Hartley circled around him, prodding his chest and eyeing his shoes with mistrust, and happily complied as his small companion checked whether his pupils were dilated. 

 

Hartley stepped back and hummed, frowning at the speedster. 

 

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were checking our Barry for drugs.” Said a voice behind him. Hartley jumped, and immediately flinched away, hands twitching to defend himself as he realised that in his concentration, he had not heard the extra heartbeat or the whirring of the wheelchair. Dr Harrison Wells raised an eyebrow at him as he notably didn’t relax. Barry smiled reassuringly 

 

“Hartley, this is Dr Wells, remember?” Of course he remembered, Hartley set his jaw and forced himself to relax, frowning at the New Person With Unconfirmed Motives. Dr Harrison Wells smiled at him, Hartley cautiously smiled back, taking the offered hand and shaking it, still unsure of where he stood with the newcomer. Dr Harrison Wells didn’t seem at all off put by his silence, which was nice, considering how Barry had reacted, all wide eyes and questions, instead he seemed totally calm, at ease with himself and the situation. Hartley _wished_ he had that kind of control. 

 

“Would you like a tour?” Dr Harrison Wells asked. Hartley glanced at Barry, who smiled 

 

“We have _all_ the toys.” He boasted, ignoring Dr Harrison Wells’ quelling glare, which turned into a soft smile when Hartley snickered

 

“Well we would, Mr Allen, if you didn’t insist on _breaking_ quite so many of them.” He reprimanded. Hartley hid his shy grin behind his hand as Barry scoffed in mock outrage. “Come along then, the two of you. We have a lot to show you, Hartley.”

 

He wasn’t kidding, the place was huge, thousands of labs and offices and a huge reception hall, it was kind of sad, to see it all so empty, Hartley wondered if this was how Barry felt about his house, then he resolved to find a use for every room he could, nodding decisively and beginning to form a list while Barry rambled. They visited the pipeline, where Hartley hung back a little, not liking the sounds of yelling and anger and fear echoing inside. Dr Harrison Wells quickly caught on and led them away, and Hartley was beginning to quite like Dr Harrison Wells, who helped him without making him feel weak, it was nice. Still, he had caused his weakness in the first place so-

 

Ugh, too complicated. Too much emotion, no person to blame, moving on. 

 

They then visited Barry’s training room, and Hartley raised an eyebrow at the various broken bits of equipment. Dr Harrison Wells laughed as Barry spluttered through an explanation “Okay, most of it's not really _my_ fault, anyway! We didn’t know various things, like the fact I have to eat like a billion calories in a day, so I kept passing out and…breaking things. But it _wasn’t my fault!”_ Hartley glanced at Dr Harrison Wells, who shared the look of mild scepticism, and Barry groaned “I knew you two would get along,” 

 

Hartley sent him a winning smile as Dr Harrison Wells led them out. They then went to the Cortex, where a large group- large for Hartley at least, who was used to groups of one, that one being him and perhaps his crippling loneliness- was waiting. Cisco Ramon, Dr Caitlin Snow, Iris and someone he presumed was her father-

 

Her father with a very large gun. 

 

_Breathe._ Barry won’t let him hurt you. 

 

_Won’t he?_

 

“Dad, I really don’t think the gun is helping.” Iris muttered. Hartley smiled at her gratefully. Joe narrowed his eyes and set it down, Iris helpfully put it on a counter far away from any of them, before walking over “Hey, Hartley, I see Dr Wells gave you the tour.” She carried on like nothing had happened, and Hartley smiled gratefully at her as he nodded

 

“Why don’t you come properly meet the rest of the team?” Barry suggested. Hartley cautiously nodded, they didn’t look all that threatening, and he could probably outrun- Barry. Fuck. Play along then. Barry walked him over to the scariest man, Iris’ Father, and smiled

 

“This is Joe West, Iris’ dad and my adoptive dad. He’s a giant teddy bear, don’t worry.” Barry introduced. Joe West didn’t look like a giant teddy bear. He looked terrifying. Oh God he was a _cop_ , wasn’t he, Hartley’d seen him on the news and oh God what if they sent him back? But no, no, _breathe_ , Barry said he wasn’t going to let that happen and if all else failed, they _couldn’t_ say no to him. Then Joe West smiled at him, all gentle and Hartley felt somewhat put at ease

 

“Hey, buddy, nice to meet you, Iris has been raving about your baking for hours,” He greeted. Hartley blinked, then slowly turned, an eyebrow raised to see Iris with her eyes closed and an embarrassed expression. Joe West laughed as Hartley smiled slyly before nodding at him, then Barry turned and introduced him to Dr Caitlin Snow and Hartley immediately pointed at her hair and smiled, she grinned

 

“Thank you, I just got it cut.” She replied, and as Hartley turned she mouthed ‘So sweet,’ at Dr Wells, who rolled his eyes but nodded reluctantly. Barry then led him over to Cisco Ramon, who grinned wildly

 

“It’s _awesome_ to finally meet you!” He gushed. Hartley blushed and smiled at the floor, before replying in sign

 

"You too, I read your papers on the Hadron Collider, amazing work.” Iris translated. Cisco Ramon made a happy face that puppies would be proud of and looked like he was about to leap on Hartley, who took note of this and took a cautious step back, hiding a smile when Dr Harrison Wells, who was quickly becoming his favourite, cut in

 

“Hartley, other than your hearing, are you aware of any other increased abilities you may have?” He asked. Hartley frowned, and glanced down at the floor, he shouldn’t tell them, should he? They might try and experiment on him and- “It’s alright if you do, Hartley, we’re not going to hurt you.”

 

Dr Harrison Wells really was in danger of becoming his favourite. 

 

Hartley sighed and nodded defeatedly. “Thats fine, Hartley, thank you for telling us.” Dr Harrison Wells smiled at him and Hartley shrugged awkwardly “Would you mind showing us?” 

 

Hartley frowned, thinking of what he could do, before he spotted a plant in the corner. He tilted his head at it, considering his options. He picked it up gently and set it down on the counter. The room held its breath. Hartley started humming, willing it to grow and expand and there was Cisco Ramon mumbling about nothing happening, but Dr Harrison Wells’ eyes were fixed on the plant, widening as it began to grow far beyond its natural capability.

 

“Oh my God,” Iris mumbled. Hartley nodded and stopped humming. 

 

“So you can make stuff grow by singing to it?” Caitlin Snow asked. Hartley frowned at her, before biting his lip and glancing at Barry, who seemed to have clocked on

 

“Sure, Hartley.” He replied to the unasked question. 

 

Hartley frowned but nodded, beginning to hum again, suddenly Barry was doing pirouettes around the room, technique perfect until Hartley stopped humming, when he faltered and stumbled to a normal stance, eyes wide. The room was silent. 

 

“Astounding.” Dr Harrison Wells murmured. Hartley blushed and hunched his shoulders “No, Hartley, nothing to be ashamed of, that was-”

 

“ _Fascinating_.” Cisco Ramon breathed. “You can control living things with your voice, can’t you?” Hartley nodded and shrugged awkwardly, grimacing as Joe West voiced his fear

 

“Dangerous. It was _dangerous_.” He growled. Hartley flinched and Iris glared at her father

 

“Dad, leave him alone.” She snarled, and Hartley wondered where the hell she pulled the bravery it took to defy her father from. He had never been able to. Well, except once. And look where that got him.

 

“He’s a threat, Iris, he could kill people.” Joe West pointed out, Hartley blinked rapidly and shook his head, backing away from him as Iris walked over to him

 

“ _Look_ at him, dad! Does he look like he’s going to start killing people?” She asked. Joe West eyed him, before slumping “See, look you’ve made him shake.” 

 

“That's why you don’t speak.” Barry murmured. Hartley nodded emphatically “You think its too risky.” Hartley smiled at Barry, who had a wide grin spreading over his face

 

“Well, we can help, right Dr Wells? You guys helped me, surely we can help Hartley.” He implored. Hartley went wide eyed, he hadn’t actually thought he’d get this far, still half convinced it was all a dream. But then Dr Harrison Wells moved forwards and smiled widely

 

“Of course we’ll help, it’ll be good to get a fresh pair of eyes on our tasks.” He stated, Hartley smiled widely, they were Good People™, they were going to help him. And suddenly Iris was smiling at him, Barry at her side

 

“Permission to hug?” Barry asked. Hartley blinked and nodded cautiously, being swept up in a three way hug, and he’d never felt this cared for, felt this needed or useful. He buried his smile in Barry’s shoulder, and missed the way that Dr Harrison Wells eyed him, hungry and calculating. 

 

“Welcome to the team, Hartley.” He murmured.


	5. Circle Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Flash has a plan, Hartley doesn't care to listen to it, equations are completed and Dr Wells continues to be creepy.

“So how are we actually going to do this?” Joe West asked. They were all sat in a circle in the cortex, most of them in the various chairs but Barry, Cisco Ramon and Hartley on the desk, Cisco Ramon kicking his feet, Barry cross-legged and Hartley curled up with his knees to his chest, chin resting on them as he observed the group. Things had calmed down since The Hug™ but he still felt like even though the conversation was about him they weren’t all that aware that he was there. The only thing that made him feel like this wasn’t a dream was the pressure of Barry’s bony knee pressing against his side and the way that Dr Harrison Wells occasionally glanced up from the conversation to check on him, shooting a quick smile before turning back to the discussion. 

 

It was nice.

 

Feeling acknowledged, that is. Hartley still didn’t quite know where he stood with the doctor, and couldn’t quite compute what the uneasy sensation in his chest meant, but he had it often enough anyways so he figured his anxious tendencies were just playing up again. 

 

It wasn’t like it wasn’t justified. 

 

Cisco Ramon _still_ looked like he wanted to leap on him, and to be honest Hartley still didn’t approve of his workwear, unfortunately he was wearing a green sweater and skinnies so he felt he couldn’t exactly say anything on it. Barry had whispered that Cisco Ramon was looking for a ‘Science buddy’ that wouldn’t threaten him with a lobotomy or walk out to ‘Go Heroing™’. Hartley wasn’t quite sure if he should be pleased about that, it wasn’t something he’d come across during research. Hmm, another thing to add to the list. 

 

“We are not going to leave him to the Press or his parents, no disrespect, Miss West, but doing that is _unacceptable_.” Hartley tuned back into the conversation to hear Dr Harrison Wells defending him against the more pragmatic Joe West. Barry was nodding seriously and Cisco Ramon was frowning, the two women apparently already knew the outcome of the discussion and had moved on to more pleasant topics, such as when their next MMA class and brunch date was. 

 

“I wasn’t suggesting that I just-”

 

“Joe, I _refuse_ to co-operate with parents that…” Hartley tuned out, heaving a sigh. Silence was much easier to deal with than people. People had opinions and tones of voice they didn’t explain and motives they didn’t discuss and frankly, _quantum mechanics_ was simpler than decoding a person. Hartley began to feel restless, and he didn’t like the Angry Noises the two Alpha Male Types were making, and the lights were far too bright and Hartley _really_ should have considered the limits of his senses before agreeing to anything like this.

 

Sensory overload was a familiar and persistent fucker. 

 

Just as his ears started to ring and one of his hands began to twitch Hartley decided that he’d rather be somewhere else, thanks. So he picked up his potted plant, the leaves of which were trailing to the floor and decided to go somewhere else. For someone so well-versed in sound, it was ironic that Hartley stepped so quietly, no one noticed his departure, so he happily wandered the labs, absently stroking the leaves of the spider plant and came across an empty room.

 

A room with equations in it. 

 

A whiteboard full of neatly transcribed equation filled his line of sight, and Hartley tilted his head at it, curiosity getting the better of logic as he blinked at it.

 

_If Y is equal to ten to the power of X cubed with a…_

 

Hartley barely noticed when he picked up the pen, mind full of simple physics, well, complex physics but still far easier than People™. 

 

* * *

 

It was only when a firm plan had been decided upon that someone noticed. Unsurprisingly, it was Dr Wells, who had just realised that he had forgotten to check up on his new project, he looked up and saw- an empty spot next to Barry, who looked suspiciously like he had fallen asleep. He glanced around the room. Hartley was nowhere to be found, and nor was the plant he’d drastically improved. Silently, Dr Wells heaved a sigh, before wondering why, in a room full of geniuses, that no one had noticed that their new friend had run off. 

 

“Barry.” He called. The speedsters head snapped up 

 

“Huh?” He glanced around, before frowning, and repeating the motion “Guys, where did we put Hartley?” He asked slowly. Iris blinked

 

“Oh God.” She murmured. Joe sighed

 

“It's like the terrible twos, all over again.” He groaned, before getting up and starting off to search for him. Dr Wells had realised, unlike the rest of them, what years in isolation could do to a child, especially one that smart, he’d also noticed how Hartley displayed signs of abuse and various mental illnesses, so he knew exactly why Joe West stumbling upon a probably confused Hartley would be a Bad Thing™.

 

“Joe, I suggest we go in a group, as he is more comfortable with us as a team, rather than individually, you remember his reaction to your…statements?” And yes, that was low, but he didn’t really _need_ brownie points from Joe West. Joe surprisingly nodded and began to organise them, hushing Cisco and soothing Iris, and soon they were wandering down the corridors. Eventually they came across a little room Dr Wells usually used to think, it was full of books and equation boards he had not been able to put to rest. 

 

Quickly Barry opened the door and glanced inside, he stopped dead still and Dr Wells knew they’d struck gold. “Guys.” He murmured. 

 

Soon enough they were all staring at the room. Hartley was sat cross legged in the centre of a huge pile of books, at least ten open around him as he flipped through the pages and jotted notes onto a post it. Dr Wells stared at the white board, scruffy handwriting filled almost every available surface, several other whiteboards from other labs had been dragged inside and he blinked, dumbfounded as he discovered that not only had his impossible equation been solved, but had been expanded upon and there was a whiteboard dedicated to practical applications of it, which Hartley was now researching apparently. 

 

There were not many people who could stun Dr Wells. 

 

Said person glanced up to see them and blinked, before raising an ink stained hand and waving a little. He then glanced around him and went pink, biting his lip and hurriedly attempting to tidy up, making ’Sorry’ gestures in frantic sign. Dr Wells blinked at him “You’re brilliant.” He stated. Hartley stopped. Blinked and shrugged, the blush darkening as a small smile. 

 

“It's official.” Cisco Ramon, who was practically bouncing on the spot called “You’re my science buddy.” 

 

Hartley just blinked at him, before nodding cautiously, sending a quick Look to Barry who was hiding his laugh in a cough. “So you wanna watch The Original Series?”

 

Hartley had no clue what he was on about. Maybe this was one of the shows his parents had never let him watch, or told him anything about, and banned him from ever seeing because it wasn’t ‘Appropriate™’ for the Rathaway Heir, Hartley had never really caught up on TV, mostly because he’d never seen the need for it when growing up without it. Books liked him, so he read those. TV, with its shouting, didn’t. So he generally avoided it. 

 

“Oh, are you more a Star Wars guy? So like, Star Wars or Star Trek?” Cisco Ramon was looking at him like this question would decide his future. Hartley blinked and looked around helplessly, eyes falling on Dr Harrison Wells, who raised an eyebrow at his confused look and stepped in. 

 

“Cisco, I don’t think Hartley will have seen either one of those.” He commented. Hartley nodded, flashing a small grateful smile at the man, who waved it away, still half captivated by the equations. Cisco Ramon on the other hand, gazed at him, wide eyed, like he was a small lost puppy. Which, Hartley supposed, reviewing the statement, wasn’t all that inaccurate. 

 

“You poor, deprived child.” He murmured. Barry snorted, and Hartley narrowed his eyes at the speedster “You have much to learn, my young padawan.” 

 

_What?_

 

Hartley raised an eyebrow, Dr Harrison Wells smiled “Just roll with it, Hartley.” 

 

Okay then. 

 

An hour later and Hartley could safely say that Cisco Ramon was becoming another favourite, he’d never had more than one before but it was nice. The fact that Cisco Ramon was promising to bring him in some Star Wars Tee shirts was another plus. Hartley liked Star Wars. He didn’t mention that one of the reasons he liked it was Ewan Mcgregor’s perfect face. Cisco Ramon didn’t need to know. 

 

Hmm, he should probably amend it to Cisco now. 

 

He seemed to have collected yet another friend.


	6. Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley has developed odd quirks after his years alone, like being afraid of toasters and having a good moral compass (ahem Dr Wells)

Hartley seemed to be doing well, Barry mused, happily stealing some of Cisco’s candy while he chatted with Dr Wells, all was well, Hartley was in the kitchen, Iris had just nipped out for lunch, Cisco was debating with Caitlin about the Star Wars Prequels and Joe was finally putting away the serial killer who had kept him far from home for weeks. Barry was content. 

 

Then there was an almighty crash. 

 

Barry immediately zapped off to the kitchen, where the sound had come from, Dr Wells following as fast as he could. Barry blinked as he entered the room and saw Hartley sprawled out on the floor, eyes wide, a fallen chair perched on top of his chest. Barry blinked, then looked around for the source of Hartley’s shock, followed the mans gaze and saw…the toaster? He turned back to Hartley, quickly returned everything, including his new friend to an upright position and made a confused noise. 

 

Dr Wells entered the room as Hartley replied in hesitant sign. “He says that you didn’t tell him it jumped out.” He informed Barry calmly, hiding a smile in a Thinking Hand™, giving up the pretence when Hartley glared at him. 

 

“You don’t have a toaster?” He asked. Hartley shrugged and signed again

 

“He only ever used it for parts.” Dr Wells blinked at the boy in front of him, studying the now nervous posture, the hidden fear “Hartley it’s alright that you don’t know things, I’m not surprised you’re missing knowledge after all of those years.” Hartley frowned at the floor, shrugging

 

“Dude, I don’t know a lot of stuff, I haven’t got a clue about Caitlin’s work, and Dr Wells doesn’t know shit about engineering.” Barry offered, ignoring Dr Wells’ quelling look

 

“Language, Mr Allen. Anyhow, not knowing things is okay, thats why we work in teams, give people tasks in areas they have experience with.” Hartley didn’t know how to respond to this, after having been alone or working alone for all of his life, he wasn’t used to teams, or splitting the workload. It had always just been him. 

 

He hesitantly signed out an answer to the unspoken question. _My parents didn’t like me asking for help. Or not knowing things, or talking too much. Me in general, really._

 

Dr Harrison Wells stared at him, before pursing his lips and frowning, and Hartley flinched, wondering if he’d read the man wrong, if that uncomfortable feeling was right after all and he was going to be punished and-

 

“Come here, I’ll show you how everything works.” The man said calmly, Hartley blinked. Of course the feeling was wrong, Dr Harrison Wells had always been kind to him, he shouldn’t doubt him. Then he registered an offer of knowledge, and he smiled really wide, watching a small fond -Oh Lord, he was _liked!_ New feeling, _good_ feeling, _keepitcherishlikedlikedliked-_ smile make its way across the older mans face as he grabbed the toaster and pulled a screwdriver out of nowhere. “Barry, could you check on Cisco, I think I can smell burning.” 

 

By the time Barry got back- Dr Wells was right, Cisco had attempted to make a lightsaber and had failed horribly- he walked into the scene of Dr Wells patiently explaining how the coffee machine worked as Hartley, perched on the table, poked the now thoroughly dismantled equipment with a small wrench, a now apparently better working toaster having been put back together by the pair of curious scientists. 

 

He smiled. Hartley was doing well, he just had a lot to learn. 

 

* * *

 

The next time Hartley’s inexperience with the outside world showed was when they discovered his odd sleeping habits. Odd in that he was essentially a cat, the amount of naps he took was frankly impressive, of course they were never long enough to make up for working as hard and long as he did on all of the various projects Dr Wells and Cisco had given him to keep him occupied when a meta human _wasn’t_ trying to murder Barry for a change, but still, he was trying to sleep more. 

 

But the _frequency_ of the catnaps wasn’t the weird bit.

 

Where they took place was. 

 

Hartley apparently had a habit of falling asleep in the oddest of places. The old first place being on the roof, Caitlin had lectured a startled Hartley for a good hour.

 

Now however, topped that, spectacularly. 

 

Now, however, Hartley had fallen asleep in the pipeline after having swapped stories with an Actual Murderer™, the Rainbow Raider, who could apparently Sign. They’d found him on the evening food round, Cisco had shrieked bloody murder and scared the life out of Hartley, who woke up immediately, apparently this wasn’t cool with Rainbow Raider, who unleashed an unholy shitstorm of angry complaints on Cisco, who was wondering why the _fuck_ Hartley was napping here in the first place and why the _literal criminal_ was now friends with him?

 

He had dragged Hartley out of the pipeline, ignoring the waves exchanged between him and his stray super villain friend, and planted him in front of Dr Wells and Barry, explained and then left to go and find some advil for his raging headache. Dr Wells had blinked, Barry had frowned.

 

“Wait since when are we his guardians?” He called after Cisco, who stuck his head around the corner and glared

 

“Since _I said so._ Also, Dr Wells is the only one fluent in sign and Barry you said you’d look after him.” He replied coolly, Hartley raised an eyebrow at Dr Wells, who shrugged at him, bewildered as Barry glared

 

“But _mom_ ,” He whined. Cisco glowered

 

“But nothing, B, your mess.” He stated, disappearing again. Dr Wells finally took pity on his sleepy, very confused new protégé and waved Barry away as he made to complain

 

“What Cisco is trying to say is that sleeping in the pipeline is dangerous, and you shouldn’t do it again.” He offered. Hartley blinked, and tilted his head 

 

“The people down there aren’t nice, they’ve tried to hurt people. If one of them escaped, we couldn’t guarantee your safety.” Barry took over. Hartley nodded awkwardly, before frowning and shaking his head, grabbing Barry’s hand and looking expectantly between him and Dr Wells, who nodded slowly and took Barry’s hand, hiding a laugh as Hartley nodded decisively and tugged Barry, and subsequently him along, back to the pipeline, he presumed. 

 

Once they got there Hartley quickly reopened the walkway and tugged Barry off down the corridor, Dr Wells’ wheelchair humming behind them. He led them over to Rainbow Raiders cell and smiled at the man, who grinned back, before backing away at the sight of the others. Hartley began signing to him, smiling encouragingly 

 

“Piper here says you aren’t dangerous, somehow I beg to differ.” The man offered, glaring. Hartley sent him a disapproving look

 

“Us? _We’re_ dangerous?” Barry scoffed. Rainbow Raider glowered “ _We_ didn’t kill anyone.” Rainbow Raider snickered at that as Hartley signed to him again 

 

“You have however locked dozens of people in a six by six metre box, and denied us basic human rights. Morality aside, that's _stupid_. Piper says he agrees.” Barry clenched his jaw

 

“What so we just let you out?” He asked. Hartley shook his head, sighing and signed. Rainbow Raider nodded enthusiastically 

 

“Piper says that no, of _course_ not, you silly nerd. He says that helping us control our abilities should be a priority, making sure metas have rights and knowing the full context of the situation before you go into a fight. Also that the really dangerous ones should be kept here, but in better conditions.” Barry blinked at Hartley, who raised an eyebrow challengingly, before signing once more “For example, did you know that Shawna Baez was in an abusive relationship when you captured her, also that she is very claustrophobic. She and Piper have been communicating for a few days now, amazing what talking to someone can do.” 

 

Barry blinked at Hartley, who rolled his eyes. “He says that they used morse code since she’d had army training.” And yeah. That made sense. 

 

“We can’t just let them out and help them.” He protested, desperately avoiding the valid points. He’d hate to have made this whole thing a mistake, what if he was hurting people, what if-

 

“Why not?” Dr Wells asked. “Having them as trained allies is a far better strategy than leaving a gaping weakness to be exploited.” Hartley made a ‘Well, _duh’_ noise and nodded. Barry groaned.

 

“Fine. But it's a process, we need a plan and back ups and the whole shebang, this isn’t going to be reckless.” He stated calmly. Hartley grinned at him, before quickly signing to Rainbow Raider, who looked happy for the first time since Barry had met him. 

 

“Piper says that he’s going to get Shawna and nothing you can do will stop him.” He said cheerily. Barry blinked, sighed, and followed. Out of all of them, Shawna Baez had been the one he’d been most conflicted about locking away, so he was slightly more okay with this than he would be if Hartley had chosen, say, Nimbus. He watched as Hartley jogged over to Shawna’s cell, knocked firmly against the glass, receiving a timid answer back, before knocking again and opening the cell door. 

 

The effect was immediate, Shawna appeared in a puff of black smoke right beside Hartley, who grinned and cautiously waved. She blinked at him, seemingly pained by the light and yep, now Barry could see why the pipeline had been the Wrong Call™, and god, he felt awful. Shawna smiled back and suddenly she was hugging Hartley close and murmuring her thanks a thousand different ways into his neck. He smiled widely and threw an arm around her before tugging the little posse back to the Cortex.

 

And after an hour of yelling, medical exams, angry teleporting and plants withering, Shawna Baez agreed to help them and become a part-time member of the team. 

 

(But only after Hartley had silently told her off for asking him to hypnotise the team)

 

(‘Hartley, _please_ ’ ’They are my favourites’ “Hartley-‘ ‘ _My favourites!’)_

 

Of course then Cisco walked in, blinked and glared at Barry, shooting a disappointed look at Dr Wells “You were _supposed_ to be telling him off.” He growled. Shawna raised an eyebrow

 

“Hartley, you fell asleep in the pipeline again didn’t you? I keep telling you, you mustn’t keep doing that.” She tutted at him and Cisco blinked

 

“How is it the criminal is the _only_ sane one?” 

 

With that he walked out.

 

(But could be found playing a tense game of Operation with Shawna a few days later.)


	7. Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't do to dwell on instinct, since when had that ever helped him? Instinct be damned.

Honestly this should have happened sooner, Hartley mused, really he should have been expecting it. He hummed to himself from his position hiding under Dr Harrison Wells’ desk. He could hear the man in the broom closet nearby, he could almost hear his brain working, cogs turning frantically to find a solution. Personally Hartley could think of at least six, wait, seven, but with no way to communicate with Dr Harrison Wells, he couldn’t relay the information, frustrating as it was, he’d wait, see what the model needed to work, which equation to use. He’d managed on his own for years, surely he could-

 

**_Bang_**.

 

Admittedly when he’d managed on his own, there hadn’t been an angry man with guns that could _literally kill him_. The man had broken into Star Labs while Barry was away being The Flash, and it had just been Dr Harrison Wells and himself, which was fine, because Dr Harrison Wells seemed to like him being quiet and Hartley found people confusing. They had been working on some equations Cisco had thrown at Hartley before he went out for lunch (‘Sorry, dude, I’ll grab you something before Barry runs you home,’ Hartley really liked collecting friends, he’d never felt so cared for) when there was suddenly a blaring alarm trying to break Hartley’s fragile hearing. 

 

He had flinched away from the noise, feeling his head suddenly start aching, his vision going a little hazy before suddenly Dr Harrison Wells was saying something about a revenge plot, whatever that was about, probably a The Flash Thing, and telling him to get under the desk, Hartley did so, and curled up, hands over his ears, and if his head hadn’t hurt so much, he would have felt the warm liquid seeping over his fingers and lips. As it was, however, Hartley was stuck under a desk, with no way to communicate with his one chance at survival, with an angry meta human trying to find and kill him.

 

He should have listened to the little voice telling him to stay in bed. 

 

The angry man started pacing around the Cortex, yelling for Barry to ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are!’, and should Hartley have been able to speak, he would have seriously considered making a bad joke about the closet. But he couldn’t, so he stayed still and recited a few hundred digits of Pi. He really wished he had his wren friend, or one of his rats, or the potted plant. Everything was too much, everything was overstimulation and he’d love to be in a dark room with noise cancelling headphones, but apparently Fate was a bitch and hated him.

 

Oh well. 

 

No use complaining, more use in planning. 

 

Hartley recited the Fibonacci sequence and considered his options and-

 

_Oh_.

 

It was so simple. 

 

God he was an idiot sometimes. 

 

Hartley slowly got up, hearing Dr Harrison Wells open his mouth to discourage him, probably, but he ignored it. He ignored the pounding of his head, the shaking of his hands, the way the room span as the alarm blared, and he decided that he could totally ‘Go Heroing.’ So when the Angry Man turned and started talking at him, he just blinked at him.

 

And he started humming. 

 

The man stared at him, opening his mouth to shout again most likely, but soon Hartley observed his eyelids drooping, his posture slipping into a slouch as Hartley began to sing, a simple, calming melody that Jerrie had loved when he was five and trying desperately to lull her back to sleep before their parents got home and hurt them. No words, of course, but words weren’t needed. 

 

The Angry Man began to fall, so Hartley rushed forwards and caught him, gently lowering him to the ground as he continued his song. Eventually the man was fast asleep, Hartley knelt beside him as he finished off the song. He heard Dr Harrison Wells wheel out of the closet, mumbling something indistinct, everything sounded fuzzy now, like someone had put headphones over the world, his head hurt, and now he registered the blood trickling slowly down his neck. 

 

And oh, there was another human, an Angry Human, maybe the Angry Man's friend, and oh they were pointing a gun and- Dr Harrison Wells was a blur already but Hartley still wasn’t quite sure how Dr Harrison Wells had managed to get in front of him so quickly, or maybe it was that he was suddenly further away from the Angry Human, Hartley wasn't sure and thinking about it was making his head spin. It was too much for his overloaded brain to cope with, so the last thing he saw was a dark outline and the Angry Human gesturing.

 

Then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Dr Wells didn’t like admitting his faults. It made him feel weak, _useless_. But even he couldn’t deny that he now felt a certain…fondness for his team. Despite the fact that he loathed the versions of them he knew, he couldn’t help but smile at Cisco’s antics, Caitlin’s half hearted threats, Barry’s endless enthusiasm…Hartley’s quiet intelligence. 

 

God, he wished he’d had the kid on his team during the accelerators production. Everything would have been so much _easier_. 

 

Still, focus on the present (but mostly the future), with this fondness, Dr Wells had found himself quite unwilling to lose anyone just yet. And now the group of people under his protection included Hartley. Hartley with his penchant for befriending animals (‘Dr Wells, I _swear_ he’s a Disney prince. We’re in the Little Mermaid,’), Hartley with his odd little quirks, like that habit of tugging on peoples sleeves when he wanted something (The first time it had happened to him he had had to very carefully tell himself not to deck the poor boy, who had proudly presented him with yet another long unsolved equation. He had smiled and felt another little piece of himself die as he contemplated how crushed this one would be upon the reveal.), Hartley with his constant shy smiles and musical laughter that made every plant within ten metres of him grow.

 

So when Hartley had placed himself directly in front of his hiding spot and taken on a Very Dangerous Metahuman, Dr Wells had, to use one of Cisco’s more colourful phrases, _lost his fucking shit._ He had watched, unwilling to be as petrified as he felt, as Hartley had sung the man to sleep. He had been congratulating him, when he noticed the dazed look, the blood trickling down a pale neck and over his lips, and he saw red.

 

_No one_ touched his things. 

 

No one touched his _Team_.

 

That meant that no one was allowed to harm _Hartley_.

 

(Except him someday- stop thinking, _stop thinking, unhelpful, stop thinking **stopstopstop)**_

 

And then another man had walked in, with a gun which he seemed content to point at Hartley. So Dr Wells, unthinking, got up and deposited Hartley safely out of harms way. He had then quickly incapacitated and traumatised the poor man, who really he felt (sort of) bad for, he couldn’t have known exactly how dangerous the two ‘vulnerable’ members of the team actually were, and quickly turned to see Hartley passed out on the floor. 

 

Dr Wells sighed, he did so _hate_ people touching his things. He propped Hartley against the desk and got back into the chair, sighing as he called Barry, who yelled a little and then in half a second was staring at the now thoroughly wrecked Cortex. Dr Wells smiled as suddenly Hartley was placed gently on the cot.

 

He did so _love_ having minions. It made everything _so_ much easier.

 

Hartley woke up to a faint buzzing and the concept of a headache declaring its presence behind his eyes. He blinked up at the ceiling and frowned as he remembered the events of what he presumed were a few hours ago. The Angry Man, singing, Dr Harrison Wells, another Angry Man, a gun and-

 

He’d saved him. 

 

Hartley had never experienced that before. No one had ever saved him, but now, Dr Harrison Wells, with his odd mumblings, forced seriousness and lingering hurt whenever he looked at Barry, had.

 

_Huh_.

 

“You really did a number on yourself.” Barry! Hartley turned to see his favourite superhero smiling at him, relived and happy. Hartley smiled back, shrugging a little “Your ears and nose were bleeding something awful, Caitlin and Shawna weren’t sure you’d…Man, you had us worried sick, _don’t_ do that again,” 

 

But what was he supposed to have done? Let the Angry Man hurt them? Hartley didn’t understand why Barry was upset with him, but he’d never understood why his dad hated him, so there was that. Maybe he was just stupid, only useful for equations and-

 

“Hey, _hey_ , I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have phrased that better, what you did was very brave, and Cisco is still recovering from the awesome CCTV footage, well, the footage from before the meta fucked with it, and I’m very happy you protected us, but also you could have got badly hurt, you  _did_ get badly hurt- and no one wants you to be hurt, and the thought of you _being_ badly hurt is something we didn’t really want to have to consider. So if something like this happens again, please take your own safety into account, thats what I meant.” Barry rambled. Hartley frowned

 

So it was a good thing, but also bad? Ugh, physics was so much simpler than this, something was either positive, or negatively charged, no grey area. But he supposed Barry lived in a world of greys and thus operated with them, he used a different equation. Fair enough, Hartley thought to himself, before nodding slowly at Barry, who smiled. 

 

He supposed that maybe considering his potential worth would be helpful in future scenarios. Something to be researched, perhaps.

 

“Ah, good, you’re awake.” And hi Cisco. Cisco smiled widely at him “That was amazing, man, you went all Wrath of Khan on him, _holy shit!’_ He glanced at Barry, who was rubbing his temples in a way that Hartley just knew he’d picked up from Dr Harrison Wells “-But also dangerous, please be careful,” Cisco tagged on helpfully. Hartley smiled and nodded, being told off was worth finally understanding the references. 

 

“Cool, man, listen I need to go and find some wrenches, the piping was smashed up, like, super well, so I gotta dash.” He made Barry running motions before cackling at his friends bemused face and walking off. Hartley got up and looked around the lab, which was, in all fairness, really very messy, papers and the occasional desk strewn everywhere, Cisco staring in shock at the room, Caitlin and Shawna giving him mean eyes while they collected their things and- 

 

Dr Harrison Wells was awkwardly loitering in a corner, frowning at the wrecked space, then down at his hands, then to the camera for some reason, then back to the Cortex. Dr Harrison Wells had saved him, how, he had no idea, but the point remained that he had. And that was not to be ignored. Hartley had grown up learning to be completely self reliant, who the fuck else would help him, if he couldn’t do it himself, not his parents, certainly, and Jerrie had been too young. Then he’d been alone, and you can’t count on animals to save your life, or help you when you needed aid. 

 

Apparently he could count on Dr Harrison Wells. 

 

So he walked over to the man, who, wrapped in his thoughts, did not notice him until Hartley had pulled him into a tight hug, blinking in shock before sighing and hugging the boy back. They pulled back and smiled awkwardly as Hartley signed his gratitude “Just be careful, Hartley, I’m an old man- Don’t give me that look- and I can’t take that kind of shock.” 

 

Hartley laughed and nodded, before making to walk off and apologise to Caitlin and Shawna, and try not to provoke another joint yelling match (they were _terrifying_ when they were on the same side) and-

 

Dr Harrison Wells had caught his wrist in a loose grip, Hartley looked back, eyebrows raised to see a small smile on the mans face, and something primal inside his chest shrank away in fear. “Also, no need to use my full name. Harrison will do.” The doctor stated. 

 

Hartley blinked, nodded, and smiled. He walked away from the man, wondering why he felt uncomfortable with his back to his saviour. Hmm, still, Dr Ha- Harrison, _just_ Harrison, had saved him, was kind, didn’t laugh. You can’t ask a hero why they saved someone. And Hartley _liked_ Harrison, he thought he was funny, and an as of yet unsolved equation, he liked people who were more question than statement, and Harrison was almost entirely unanswered. 

 

What Hartley loved more than anything was that he had collected Harrison to be his friend. 

 

And it doesn't do to dwell on instinct, since when had that ever helped him? Instinct be damned, friends looked out for each other, that was what Cisco said, so he would too. Harrison was his friend, he would help him in whatever way he could.


	8. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team go on a field trip. Things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of child abuse and illegal medical practices. Panic attacks. The middle of this isn't great fun, folks, so be careful

It began when Barry had walked into the Cortex to see Dr Wells reading some ridiculously obscure physics book, Caitlin fiddling bits of wire while she waited for a chemical examination program to download and Cisco and Hartley braiding each others hair, a small basket of flowers sitting innocently next to where they sat on the floor, cross-legged and giggling. All of the plants in the room now had leaves trailing along the ground and Dr Wells occasionally offering the pair suggestions for how to get the braids as ‘symmetrical as possible using only the Fibonacci sequence, boys, and _under_ , not over, Cisco,’. 

 

It was when Cisco successfully braided a fake rose into Hartley’s hair that Barry had enough. He walked over to them and raised an eyebrow. “Hey B, we would have asked you to join us, but y’know, you have weird hair.” Cisco offered, grinning. Hartley waved at him, before concentrating on weaving a daisy chain into Cisco’s hair while Dr Wells recited Pi at him. 

 

“Okay. Hartley, you need a haircut.” He stated. Cisco gasped, shaking his head

 

“Barry, _no_.” He breathed. Hartley ran a hand through his hair, which had evidently not been cut in a way that wasn’t ‘Just get out of my eyes so I can do _science’_  since Hartley had been left alone. He raised an eyebrow at Barry

 

“We also should probably get you some new clothes. And a new glasses prescription.” Dr Wells added helpfully, wheeling over. Hartley blinked at him, shrugging, apprehensive “We can get clothes online, but we’d need to go out for the rest.” 

 

Going out?

 

Hartley hadn’t done that in eight years. 

 

And people were _frightening_. They yelled and mocked and shoved and gossiped and hated. Hartley didn’t like people, he didn’t know the equation, and what if more of them were like his parents? What if they’d try and lock him away again, he wasn’t sure he could go back to being alone, to being without Iris' nail polish, and Caitlin’s small smiles that meant he was Being Good™, or Barry’s never ending support, Shawna’s coded affection, or Cisco’s references, or Joe’s protection, or Harrison’s quiet kindness. He couldn’t, _he wouldn’t._

 

But what if they made him? 

 

What if they would take him away from them?

 

But, Barry and Caitlin and Harrison and Shawna and Cisco and Iris and Joe were all people too. They had been kind. They were good to him. If they were good, then maybe, just maybe, other people would be too. Maybe he could do this. Maybe he should remember to breathe. 

 

“You okay there, buddy?” Cisco asked quietly, Hartley nodded, then glanced up at Barry, who raised an eyebrow. He nodded.

 

_Okay. Let's do it._

 

“Team,” Harrison called “We’re going on a field trip.” 

 

Hartley grinned, a 'field trip'. He’d never been on one of those. Then he smiled wider, more to research.

 

A field trip, as it turned out, was a _lot_ more complicated than google suggested. Hartley had grown up under cameras, he knew about disguises, but this was a little ridiculous. He was wearing heels, for one, which he would be fine with, only he couldn’t walk in them, no matter how pretty they looked, his glasses had also been replaced with a spare set of Harrison’s and Barry had leant him some clothes which were far, far too big for him. 

 

Then Iris had descended with a pair of contact lenses and makeup. 

 

Contacts, he decided, were the work of Hades, but her makeup was okay, it didn't even make his skin burn, like Mother's had. Eventually he was escorted out by Barry, Harrison and Iris, who took him into the heart of Central. And God almighty did Hartley _hate_ it. He had never seen so many people since he’d been left, and they were all noisy and rude and kept knocking into them and when one of them laughed at Harrison Hartley almost punched them in the face, then saw that Barry looked the same way and decided that the hitting things should probably be left to the man who could actually run away successfully. 

 

The haircut was apparently first. The walk to the barber was intimidating enough, Hartley kept as close to Barry as possible and tried not to start panicking but when they entered the little store, a huge burly man walked up to them and if Barry’s arm hadn’t clamped around his waist he would have started running. The Hagrid Looking Guy talked to Barry for a while and really he should have payed more attention, collected data but really Hartley’s main focus was Staying Upright™ and Making Sure He Was Breathing™.

 

He was _never_ going out again, Cisco was right, long hair was cool and fashion could go fuck itself, he hated going to the barbers. Barry quietly informed him that he was getting a haircut too so it wouldn’t be weird and he’d tried to convince Dr Wells, honestly, but the man had given him a stare that could rival Caitlin’s in coldness. So Hartley went along with the proceedings, tried to ignore how his heart was racing- Oh God, someone was touching him, not known, help _help help **dangerhelphurtdangerhelpplease-**_ and how his hands shook where he folded them neatly into his lap. 

 

Then it was over, and he nodded at the barber, who raised an eyebrow at him and remarked on his pale face and terrified expression, and really Hartley wanted to reply that he was scared of him because he looked like a fucking _bear_ and he hadn’t seen anyone in like ten years and it was _scary_ and it _hurt_ and he was trying to breathe and-

 

Barry escorted him outside with Iris, who smiled at him and ran her hands through his hair until he felt like he could think again. Hartley’s heart stopped its frantic rabbit quick rhythm as his lungs heaved in the air they’d missed. Harrison smiled at him as he exited the building, and Hartley returned the motion in kind, although with slightly less confidence.

 

Then they’d walked to the optician. And Hartley had seen the picture of the exam taking place and-

 

_“Fix him.” Mother demanded. Hartley didn’t know why he was broken, and wanted to point this out, but then again, no matter how clever, a five year old does not accept their parents wishes as coming from anything other than a place of love and affection. So he stayed quiet and obedient by his mothers side, and ignored how her nails dug painfully into his collarbone._

 

_“Mrs Rathaway, your son-” Dr Magnus tried. Hartley liked Dr Magnus, he was nice to him, he didn’t make him read his lips like Mother and Father, he signed for him, that meant he was kind, kinder than his parents anyway. Although Hartley was sure that they meant well, they had to love him, didn’t they? They made him, no matter what school said, biology didn’t lie, although he wasn’t supposed to be reading about science anymore, only business, so he wouldn’t say anything, lest Father become upset with him again._

 

_Hartley hated wearing makeup. It made his skin burn and he didn’t think anyone else’s did when they wore makeup, otherwise they would have said, because everyone did wear makeup, like him, everyone had to cover up when their parents disciplined them, it was a private, family sort of thing and not to be mentioned among outsiders. That was what Mother said._

 

_“I said fix him, Dr Magnus, we don’t pay you for your ethics. Whatever it takes. We cannot afford a broken heir.” His mother said coldly, her upper lip twiting unpleasantly, and Hartley watched Dr Magnus nod, fixing him with an apologetic stare before his mother turned him around “Behave, boy, daren’t diss paint me.” _

 

_That couldn’t be right._

 

_“Sorry?” Hartley tried. Mother's nostrils flared, and her mouth pinched before she drew back a hand and slapped him, the vibration declaring its presence in a sharp ringing burning into Hartley’s head. He lowered his eyes to the floor and gasped as Mothers hand jerked his chin up_

 

_“I said, do not disappoint me.” She stated grimly. And Hartley knew that he would have to wear makeup tomorrow, because surely she would tell Father about his failure and Father would not be pleased. _

 

_Hartley whimpered a little but nodded dutifully. She pushed him towards Dr Magnus, who carded a hand through his hair and pulled out his supplies._

 

_“I’m sorry, kid.” He murmured. Hartley didn’t really know what he meant._

 

_He did a few hours later, when his mother collected him, collar bloodstained, face pale and body shaking, from a tired Dr Magnus._

 

_She didn’t say a thing. But Father didn’t either, Hartley had smiled at that. That was really kind of them, he shouldn’t doubt that they loved him, otherwise, Father would have been upset tonight._

 

_But he realised the next morning, as he shivered against the wall, that Father had just given him a reprive. He'd still have to wear makeup. But the reprive meant something, that they loved him. Didn't it? It had to, it had to._

 

_It had to mean they loved him._

 

Hartley stared frozen at the picture of medical tools and the man in the lab coat. The rabbit beat in his chest had started again and he couldn’t _breathe_. They were trying to _fix_ him, he couldn’t escape, Barry would catch him, _they had lied_. They were _liars_ and they had _tricked_ him and **_he had trusted them and they had lied to him._**

 

“Hartley?”

 

**_DangerhurtpainbandagesDrMagnusmotherfatherhelphelpmepleaseithurtsithurtssobad-_ **

 

_“Hartley!”_

 

**_Liarspaintrickedliepainbloodhurtswhywhywhyliarspainhurt-_ **

 

Hartley couldn’t breathe, it was like seeing the world through a filter, everything was detached and he lived in a realm of _darkness_ and _silence_ and his mind wouldn’t _shut up_ and all he could see was Dr Magnus apologising and his mother’s bony hand and his fathers disappointment and Jerrie and endless surgery and _pain_ and they had _lied_ to him they had _broken_ him and-

 

“Breathe.” _Cold_. A cold voice. Orders. He could follow orders. He was a Rathaway. He breathed. “Good. Keep going.” 

 

Validation. Hartley needed it like _air_ , he needed to know he was needed and _useful_ and _good_ and not _disappointing_. He _needed_ to be useful and good and not disappointing. Validation, Hartley _was_ useful. He _was_ good. He was _not_ disappointing. More orders. Follow? Yes. More validation, maybe- ** _pleasepleaselikeairlikebloodplease-_**

 

56% probability. 

 

It was enough.

 

Hartley let the rabbit beat in his chest slow, the frantic rhythm slowing to a soft waltz. He became aware of his surroundings. He was in the same spot, Barry and Iris and Harrison were staring and him and they were _liars!_ They had-

 

“We’re not going to try and fix you.” Harrison stated, still in the cold voice. Hartley knew that voice, his father used it on him from the moment he found out he was deaf, it had a specific glance, expression and frequency. Hartley had grown up to that voice. He knew how to read it. Harrison wasn’t lying. He nodded, blinking.

 

“What did they do to you?” Iris murmured. Hartley pointed at the sign. Then at his ears.

 

“His parents would do anything for a perfect heir.” Harrison murmured sourly. Iris’ mouth fell open

 

“Oh, Hartley, I’m so sorry.” She offered. Hartley shrugged, flushing pink as he realised he’d failed them too. God, couldn’t he do anything right?

 

“I’m going to murder them.” Barry growled “Imma find them, and _kill_ them.” 

 

“Barry-” Harrison tried.

 

“Nope, murder is happening.”

 

“Barry! I was going to say that perhaps missing an opportunity to watch them suffer is not the best way to give punishment.” 

 

Hartley was slightly terrified of Harrison sometimes. 

 

But watching Iris nod and Harrison and Barry rally around him, planning various ways (differing in violence levels) to get vengeance on his parents, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe he didn’t need parents. Maybe he _had_ a family. Maybe his father was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t ever recited the full saying. 

 

Blood is thicker than water after all is a misquote. 

 

The real saying was that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. 

 

Funny, his parents always had only ever seen their side of things. 

 

So after a short argument and some threatening from Harrison, Hartley forewent the actual exam, but was given several sets of lenses to look through until he found the right prescription. Hartley, being as clever as he was, sorted them into groups, subsections and pairs until he found the right prescription in less than half an hour and a few sheets of notebook paper. 

 

Harrison had never looked prouder and Hartley’s heart had soared. 

 

Panic attack or no, Hartley’s wellbeing was constructed and maintained purely through praise and validation. 

 

And fifteen minutes later Hartley walked outside and gaped. Iris raised an eyebrow as she watched him dazedly examine some leaves. “Exactly how wrong was his prescription?” She asked Dr Wells, who observed Barry chasing after Hartley with a fond smile

 

“He’d had the same pair of glasses since he was seven, approximately.” He replied. Iris hummed

 

“And how dead are the Rathaways?” Dr Wells turned to face her and smiled and in that moment Iris West had never been quite so wary of a person in her life, but watching Hartley marvel at the now HD world around him, panic forgotten, she smiled back at the man who had the face of a gentleman and the eyes of a snake, and she was glad that she knew him.


End file.
